And suddenly, without warning, two piercing eyes emerged from the water, followed by a mouth filled with sharp teeth. In an instant, an alligator sprang from the water, its gaping jaws snapping shut exactly where, just a split second earlier, Mana had foolishly placed his head. With a miraculous pirouette—one only an archaeologist fueled by adrenaline (and perhaps pure terror) could pull off—Mana leaped backward, narrowly escaping the creature's teeth.

The alligator, momentarily disoriented, wasn’t about to give up on its breakfast. Meanwhile, Mälwe had begun chanting an incantation meant to scare the creature away. As with most spells (or computers), they tend to take an exasperating amount of time to start up—especially when needed most. Aranon, on the other hand, chose a more direct approach, attempting to throw his sword, which, unfortunately, embedded itself into a nearby tree, at a distance quite respectable from the alligator.
Mana, unsheathing his knife with the reluctant enthusiasm of a man who would much rather have stayed in bed, saw the alligator change targets and rush towards his feet. In a desperate move that turned into an acrobatic feat, Mana leapt, stomping down on the alligator’s jaws with his boot in a gesture as heroic as it was improbable.
The gator, unimpressed by a mere shoe sole, thrashed about vigorously, sending Mana rolling across the ground. Sensing its meal was within biting distance, the alligator prepared to devour its Mana-burger when Mälwe's spell, finally ready, struck the creature with desperate force. Panicked, the alligator made a swift retreat, diving back into the oasis, leaving behind a group of noticeably shaken travelers.
Still seated on the ground, Mana took a moment to reflect. "Two hours here, and I’ve already almost died more times than in my entire life..." he thought, vaguely considering a career change to stamp collecting.
Mälwe, approaching with concern, asked, "Are you alright? You’re not hurt, Mana?"
Meanwhile, Aranon retrieved his sword from the tree without a word about his misadventure. "We should move on; it’s not safe here," he declared.
The group quickly gathered their belongings and this time adopted a much brisker pace. After all, one never knows if a vengeful alligator might return—this time with backup. Before long, they saw the city of Alak Zind’ria on the horizon, an oasis of civilization in the heart of the desert, renowned not for its alligator fights, but for its intellectual treasures.
It was a place where old stones told stories, libraries whispered forgotten secrets, and adventurers could, in theory, pursue their quests without the risk of being eaten by the local wildlife. As they approached the city gates, a few nonchalant guards carried out sporadic checks with an efficiency that left much to be desired.
Each of the trio was lost in their own thoughts. Mälwe pondered the mysteries still to be solved, Mana wondered how many lives he had left, and Aranon... Aranon was perhaps considering if it was time to sharpen his sword-throwing skills.
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